Sue Bragato, from a speech she gave Summer, 2004 at the Relay for Life My name is Sue Bragato. I consider myself to be one of the luckiest people alive… and I have breast cancer. I know the words lucky and cancer are not commonly said in the same sentence, but as I begin my talk I want you all to know that I consider myself very lucky to be with you tonight. I have thought a lot about what I might share with you. I could talk about cancer prevention, advocacy, provide all the latest data on cause and effects. But, then I realized nothing I can say will really impact unless you can understand what it is like to walk in my shoes. A year and half ago I joined the one in eight women in America that have been diagnosed with breast cancer. I also joined my sister Nancy who was diagnosed two years before I was. There has been no cancer in our family but we were diagnosed with the same cancer, in the same quarter section of our right breast, at the same age. The big difference between us is that she caught hers with early detection through her annual mammogram. I found lumps in my breast having not had a mammogram for two years. At the time of my diagnosis the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes, bones and my liver. I will be the first to admit that not having my annual mammogram, especially with my sister having breast cancer, was downright stupid. There is no other word I can think of to describe it. I remember many times at work I would clean my desk and find the doctor's orders for a mammogram and ultrasound that were written a year before my diagnosis. My g.y.n. was concerned that I had some discomfort in my breast where eventually I found the lumps. I remember tucking the orders away with all good intentions of scheduling an appointment. But as the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind. I was very busy with my job and I KNEW I didn't have cancer. You can only imagine what it is like when the doctor tells you that you have cancer. The emotions that you get following your diagnosis are incredible and inevitable. It did not take long for the questions to arise. Why do we still have to contend with cancer? How do I deal with the fear and uncertainty? How can I stay positive? What caused it? Then came the tough ones: Why now? Why me? When I was told of my diagnoses the day after Christmas I spent time trying yo envision how my life would change. I think my biggest concerns were making the right treatment decisions, how would my children cope with this illness that invaded our lives and how could we survive financially. The bottom line was that I just felt like I needed to do whatever I could do to get through this. I drew strength from hearing other people's stories—a strength that helped me decide to have a mastectomy. I knew that my fears and anxieties were not completely unique, and there had to be people out there who could share similar experiences. I guess what I was really looking for was real human answers from survivors. Only after a few short weeks I met several breast cancer survivors who generously shared their experiences with me, and I received an incredible amount of strength from their guidance and support. After the surgery I needed mental healing as much as physical healing. I needed to know I had done all I could do to give me the best odds for long term survival. One month after surgery, I began chemotherapy after discovering that one of the liver tumors had grown from 3 centimeters to 8 centimeters in less than two weeks. Chemotherapy seemed to be an insurmountable hurdle. My initial treatment was a very aggressive mixture of three different chemo drugs. This triple whammy did the trick and reduced my tumors substainsilly. I shaved my head with my son Chris and for about an hour we shared Mohawks together. Wigs weren't my style so friends gave me hats and scarves to cover my baldhead. During one of my first chemo treatments I was determined not to let it stop me from doing the things I love, including watching my daughter Jenna play softball. St. Francis High School, her school, was beating Wilcox High School in the third inning. Suddenly I felt faint. Fortunately I was sitting in the stands and the person next to me caught me as I passed out. The next thing I knew I was laying on the ground, hearing the sounds of an ambulance instead of a softball game. I remember saying… please play…don't stop the game because of me. I learned later that they did stop the game and both teams prayed for me, hand in hand, on their knees, around the pitching mound. Public and Catholic school students praying together that I would be OK… and I was. This moved me greatly. After a night in the hospital I was home the next day. A couple of months later I went to the CCS softball tournament where the Wilcox team was playing. I was feeling much better and I felt confident I was not going to have a repeat fainting performance. I had learned my lesson! I introduced myself to the Wilcox coach after their game and I expressed my appreciation for their support. The coach said to me that during their season, when the team was having a difficult time, they would think back to that day at St. Francis. They would put into perspective that life is so much more than a game, and they should just appreciate playing the game they love… win or loose. As bad as I felt the day I fainted because I stopped the game I realized something I know how serious my diagnosis is and that I may die sooner rather than later. With each treatment I hope that it will work and that the side effects will be tolerable. Hope is the expectancy of good in the future. It plays a role in the successful coping with illness and in improving the quality of a person's life. In the context of a terminal illness, hope can exist even when time is limited. Although some people may find it hard to comprehend, when everything seems to be lost, hope may actually be stronger than ever before. I believe that the most essential thing to learn from cancer survivors is you should live each day to the fullest because you never know what is going to happen to you. You should live out the carpe diem philosophy even if you are not sick. People need to make sure they do the things that they want to do when they are healthy and capable. Then if they suddenly get sick they will feel they lived the way they wanted to and did the things they wanted to accomplish. Live for no regrets. While the "magic bullet" for cancer prevention and treatment has not yet been found, the federal government, I believe, is providing MINIMAL resources for cancer prevention and treatment. In 2003, $698 million was dedicated to breast cancer research through the National Institutes of Health. Just last week a congressional panel dealt with President Bush's moon-Mars exploration plan. The House panel agreed to provide NASA with $15.1 billion in the next fiscal year. Have any of you seen a "Relay for Mars?" I say let's concur cancer before Mars. We need to lobby Congress for more of our federal tax dollars to spent on cancer prevention and treatment. I hope the American Cancer Society is doing this. This leads me to the question of what the Relay for Life means to me. My children and I have attended the Relay in the past. Three years ago was our first when we participated with the San Carlos Eaton Hills 4-H club. I spent the night as a chaperon and Jenna and Chris participated on the team. I remember watching the survivor's lap and the emotions of seeing bravery and courage at it's best. Never in my wildest of dreams would I have thought one day I would be walking that survivors lap. Last year I did walk the survivor lap for the first time. I walked hand in hand with old and new friends. I walked with those that were in treatment and those that have been survivors for many years. As a survivor, it's an incredible feeling to see all of you supporting the fight against cancer. It's amazing and humbling all at the same time. You, caring so much to donate your time and resources for us overwhelms me. People may not tell you every day that you are incredible. In fact, you may not ever hear it. So I want to leave you with a reminder. You ARE magnificent. You ARE an inspiration. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your willingness to contribute in making a difference in the lives of others. I know that someday during those 5 minutes that a person is told that they have cancer, they will also be told that there is a cure because of the efforts of people like you. On behalf of the countries more than 8 million survivors, I thank you for this celebration of Survivorship. On a more personal note I want to thank my wonderful, caring children, Chris and Jenna, who are standing here with me as they have throughout my cancer journey. My amazing friends who have been there with me every step of the way, including many who are here this evening. I never feel like I say thank you enough for your love and support…so thank you and I love you. Last, but certainly not least, I have to thank the incredibly skilled and compassionate doctors and nurses whom have cared for me. Dr. Fred Marcus, yes, that Marcus of Marcus Miracles, my oncologist, and nurses Sherri Garoutte, Diana and Teresa are truly my heroes. Not only are they heroes they are heroes wearing angel wings. I am truly blessed to have them on my medical team. In a few minutes I will be walking a lap with many other survivors. There will be those who are noticeably absent this year, having crossed the final finish line. On behalf of all of us here and of those who are here in spirit, I offer my sincere thanks to those volunteers who have worked for months to make this event a success. And to all of you who are currently undergoing treatment I wish you the best for your successful recovery. God willing, I will see you all next year full of the spirit and healthy life that I pray for every day. As I said in the beginning of this speech, I consider myself to be one of the luckiest people alive. Since my diagnosis I have had some incredible moments that didn't seem possible when I was first learned I have cancer -- from dog sledding on a Alaskan glacier, to moving my daughter into her freshmen college dorm, watching my son break a high school track record and to being with all of you tonight. Country singer Tim McGraw has a song out right now that was inspired from his father's battle with cancer. Many of you might have heard it on the radio. It is called "Live like you are dying." The words of this song are an inspiration to me and I hope they are for all of us here tonight. We are going to play it for you now. God Bless |
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